


As Close As It Gets

by journalxxx



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 20:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11448240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/journalxxx/pseuds/journalxxx
Summary: Somewhere in the Multiverse, Dipper and Ford roam about dimensions together.





	As Close As It Gets

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [Godtater's art](https://godtater.tumblr.com/post/160352318891/its-a-natural-function-mason).

Waking up for no discernible reason in the middle of the night always makes Dipper's heart skip a beat. It usually leads to unpleasant situations. Sometimes it involves sneaky bounty hunters, sometimes unexpectedly rough weather, sometimes draining marches to get to the next dimensional hole. Even more often there are nightmares, his own or his companion's, which invariably lead to insomnia, tiredness and lack of focus for the entirety of the next day.  
  
On occasion, it is a simple hand that wakes him. A large, six-fingered hand, massaging his stomach, slowly and softly. It is by far the most preferable of all the possible scenarios.  
  
It barely qualifies as a disturbance, since it doesn't even require him to react to it. If he decides to ignore it, if he simply closes his eyes and lets his mind drift back into unconsciousness, he won't be roused again until the following morning. It's an open proposition, one that is as easy to refuse as it is to accept. It only takes him the barest movement to take up on it, he only needs to arch his back a little more deeply against the solid, warm body behind him, or to slip his leg between his companion's, or to rock his hips backwards if he feels particularly adventurous.  
  
What comes next is a tried, constant, reassuring routine. He has grown to like its straightforwardness, since the limited amount of time available to rest makes foreplay feel somewhat wasteful. The hand moves immediately downwards, sliding the boy's trousers down to his knees. It leaves for a moment, reaching for a tube of ointment which is always, invariably ready at hand. A few moments later, just a few clicks and familiar sounds later, a hot, slick hardness is spreading him, pushing into him slowly and deliberately, stopping only when it's fully sheated into his flesh. The hand moves back to his front to resume its peaceful massage, this time joined by another hand on Dipper's chest, this time slipping under his shirt to caress his bare skin.  
  
By that time, Dipper isn't hard yet, of course, but Ford doesn't touch him, not spontaneously. If Dipper asked, if he moved his great uncle's hand down to his crotch, he would gladly indulge him. He never does though, nor does he touch himself. He doesn't need to. He's found out he's perfectly capable of reaching completion just with the gradual stimulation of being penetrated inch by inch, he finds it preferable, even. Way more lasting and intense.  
  
His companion starts moving, and Dipper closes his eyes. He just feels. He feels his uncle's cock slowly dragging along his inner walls, thick and scalding, at a steady and leisurely pace. It surges deeply into him as far as it could go, then it draws back until it almost slips out, then it penetrates him fully again. And again, and again, with almost mechanical regularity. There may not be too much time for foreplay, but there would no point in making it rushed or brutal, not when the whole thing is meant to be a relief of sorts.  
  
Dipper doesn't have the slightest idea of how long any of it lasts. Seconds turn into minutes and may very well turn into hours as far as he knows, time dilates indefinably under those calm and hypnotic ministrations. He doesn't speak or move, yet Ford knows exactly, from the rhythm of his breathing, or the pulse beating under his fingertips, or some other telltale Dipper isn't aware of, how ready and excited Dipper is, and picks up the pace accordingly. His thrusts eventually become shorter and firmer, his embrace tighter, the curve of their nested bodies more evident as they squeeze closer to each other.  
  
Dipper doesn't even notice when he moves, curling up on himself in a semblance of foetal position, both gathering himself and exposing his rear more openly to his uncle. Ford's body swiftly accommodates against his nephew's, spooning him completely without skipping a beat, burying his nose in the boy's hair. Dipper doesn't notice when the silence of the room gets replaced by his uncle's deep breaths, by his own hitched gasps, by the sharp sound of their bodies smacking against each other. He doesn't notice at what point in time he's become fully erect and leaking, he's only aware of the delicious fullness in his rear, of the maddening desire for more contact, more heat, more. More.  
  
His orgasm is abrupt, shattering. His hips and legs tremble, shortly but uncontrollably, as pleasure bursts into him like a dam. He sinks his face in the pillow, mouth hung open but completely silent, while Ford keeps fucking him through it relentlessly, with powerful thrusts of the back. He grasps the sheets desperately as the stimulation becomes overwhelming, as the pleasure subsides and gets replaced by a shocking sensation that his body doesn't know how to interpret. He feels raw, exposed, oversensitive. He knows with absolute certainty that a single word would be enough to make Ford wait, slow down, stop, instantly. He knows he will never say it.  
  
There comes a moment when the thrusts falter, their rhythm losing its perfect uniformity. Hot breaths warm the boy's hair and neck, hands grab his body possessively, tense fingers sink in his soft belly. The man's cock buries itself as deeply as physically possible into him, and Dipper thinks, for a ridiculous, unreal moment, that it may be molding him, that it may carving a new permanent space exclusively for itself, at his very core. It works inside him with brief, abortive pushes, and Dipper finds himself wondering if it would be physically possible for the hand on his stomach to perceive even just a slight poke from it.  
  
Thick, liquid warmth fills whatever minuscule free space remained in Dipper's body, and everything goes still. Ford's usually steady form quivers with quick, shaky breaths, but not for long. He takes his sweet time to pull out, though Dipper doesn't mind in the slightest. He makes a quick job of cleaning up the both of them and pulls up their trousers, before they both straighten up on the mattress and return to the same position as before. Ford's hand is back on the boy's stomach, idly smoothing his t-shirt. Dipper covers it with his own, and feels a pair of wet lips linger against his neck. It is as close as they get to speaking, that night, every night.


End file.
